Alone
by apigeonandaquill
Summary: Angsty Five-ish fic ahead. Nikola makes a pact with Helen to fake his own death. As if the Five of them needed any more pain, but now they had it again. And Nikola must be alone.


**Angsty Five-ish fic ahead. Nikola makes a pact with Helen to fake his own death. As if the Five of them needed any more pain, but now they had it again. And Nikola must be alone.**

**Disclaimer: Sanctuary is not mine; I make no money from this writing.**

* * *

**Alone**

"Nikola. I'm saying this for your own safety. The Cabal and the governments want you, and they will find you to destroy you." Helen paced the room, watching Nikola as he stood by his inventing desk. "You need to go into hiding."

"That would mean faking my own death, Helen. I couldn't do that!" He protested, horrified. "What will the others think? And I would have no chance of getting any recognition for my recent inventions—I'm so close to a settlement with Marconi's estate, too—"

"Nikola, the others will think you are dead. This is the safest way." Helen interjected, meeting his eyes with sadness in her own. "I'll set it up so that it looks convincing, even to James. Leave it to me."

"So, we must lie to everyone except each other?" Nikola walked over to the window, glancing out over the city. "I don't like that."

"They will be at risk, if you don't." Helen stepped over to join him, as he turned to look at her, pain running through his expression. "Nigel, and James, and me— even John, wherever he is. The Cabal and the governments would make things hard for us, and though I can fight them if need be, and John can, James is struggling, and Nigel's by himself with a little baby and his wife. Think of them, Nikola." She wrapped an arm around him, seeking to comfort him, or perhaps to steady them both. "It's for the best."

"You'll keep them safe, promise?" Nikola wouldn't have showed concern to anyone else. His gaze searched Helen's face. "Please. Keep them safe."

"I promise." Helen kissed his cheek softly. "I will protect them, as best as I can."

"Then I'll do it tomorrow." He sighed softly, suddenly weary. "If this is to be my last night alive, then let us celebrate it. And I want to speak to them all, on the telephone. I want to hear their voices, I want to talk about nothing, I want them, just once more, to be here for me."

"I can arrange that." She patted his hand, and then walked off to get the telephone.

* * *

"Telegram for Sir James Watson!" The post-official ran into his study, and James swallowed the last of his Earl Grey, and showed him a smile. He let the boy out, and then unrolled the message. His eyes widened as they travelled over the words within. His heart pounded and his throat felt suddenly dry; and his knees buckled. He collapsed into his favourite armchair, shuddering, closing his eyes so as not to cry.

A telegram from Helen.

_Nikola Tesla is dead STOP New Yorker Hotel STOP Not certain of cause yet but seems to have affected his heart STOP Was probably instant STOP I'm sorry- _

He couldn't read anymore, his eyes couldn't focus. Trembling, he reached for the telephone; he had to pass the message on. It was his duty.

* * *

John just let the phone drop, and static took over. He couldn't even trust himself to speak. He was trembling as much as James had been; but it was from anger more than grief. They were Four now rather than Five, and he knew, oh, he knew, that it was due to someone in particular. Nikola wouldn't just die naturally, so he must have been killed, however discreetly it had been done.

John was ready to hunt, and Jack was waiting.

He would kill them all.

* * *

Nigel managed to finish the telephone call to James, managed to still sound light, managed to stop his voice cracking long enough to put the phone down. He felt Jeanette's soft hand touching his cheek, and saw the concern in her eyes; he tried to say he was fine, but found that he couldn't speak at all. He fell down against the wall, and then he couldn't stop himself from crying.

"What's wrong, my ducky darling?" She took his hands, sinking down beside him, her eyes alight with fear, her mouth set tight, her fingers trembling. "Please, tell me, tell me what I can do." She had never seen her darling bright husband so broken, even though she'd sometimes caught glimpses in his eyes when he thought she wasn't looking. Their child kicked within her stomach, and she wrapped an arm around her body to comfort the baby within. She wondered if they could feel the pain in the air as keenly as she could.

Nigel shook his head, and when he opened his eyes and met her own, they were empty of the light that had been his for the single wonderful year that she had known him.

"He's gone."

And it was all he needed to say, and she knew that something awful and unescapable had happened, and Five had become Four, even though she didn't understand it all, she knew how deeply they were bound, and how much it must hurt. So she just held him, held him close to her, and tried to make sure her husband's world didn't fall anymore apart.

* * *

He'd been alone for forty years now, barely even spoken to by Helen. He knew that Nigel had died; he'd managed twenty years more since Nikola's death, and then had slipped away of 'old age'. Nikola wondered how much his own disappearance had contributed to that. He knew that James was more and more dependant on his machine, he knew Helen and John were back at war with each other, and he knew that everyone had been hurt so desperately by the years that they no longer loved the same.

His own heart ached, but he hid it behind stone walls, and he didn't show anyone he chanced to meet just how close he was to falling apart with the strain.

He wanted to see James. He imagined the warmth of the man's embrace, imagined the way James would look upon him, with those soft brown eyes that were so piercing. He imagined Nigel's laughter, and the ache in his heart grew until it felt like the organ surely would explode. He imagined the feel of Helen's lips, soft and sweet, on his cheek. He even allowed himself to imagine the intensity in John's quiet voice, the steadiness his hand on Nikola's shoulder provided. Oh, he missed them, but it was for their safety, and he'd do it a hundred times over. Nigel might be dead, but he'd had twenty years of peace, his little daughter had been born and grown up well with a father to love her; and the Sanctuary Network under the control of Helen and James was thriving. His 'death' had done something good.

But his lonely home still felt so empty on this cold winter night.

And then there was a flash of light, and a crash in the little lounge, and Nikola ran over, finding John somehow there, somehow, impossibly, there with him, but he was slumped on his side, blood trickling down from a horrible shoulder wound that was deep, on his left side, and could well be fatal, Nikola knew it, he knew how serious it was before even reaching his side. John was barely awake, but when his eyes fixed on Nikola, it made the ache a little better and a little worse all the same when he whispered 'Am I in hell?' as if thinking he must be. His hand gently reached up, and Nikola flinched away out of instinct, but this was John, just John, not the Jack he'd come to know and fear, and the hand wasn't reaching up to kill, to crush the life out of him through his throat; it was reaching up to touch Nikola's cheek so gently, to reassure himself that he was real.

"Nice, Johnny." Nikola managed, his throat feeling tight. "Nice, to think you're in hell because you see me." He sighed softly, taking the man's hand for a second, before quickly moving to assist him with the wound. "I'm here." He muttered, after a moment. "You're alive, and you're going to stay that way. And I'm alive too, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. So sorry. I had to pretend, please understand, I had to." He rambled through apologies, but they weren't even really to John, they were just needed, he felt that, and he was almost relieved when John slipped off to sleep or unconsciousness, because then he didn't have to hide anymore, and he closed his eyes and steadied himself, and as soon as the wound was no longer going to kill the older man, Nikola broke down and cried out forty years worth of pain and sadness and such wretched loneliness.

* * *

The next day was spent talking and fighting and trying to kill each other and trying not to; then apologising all over again and speaking some more until the sun sank below the skyscrapers outside and they realised they hadn't eaten all day and that wasn't the best plan. So they shared a ready meal under candlelight and it almost felt comforting. It felt so wonderful, Nikola thought, to have someone else there, to not be alone anymore. He even discovered that he liked the sound of his own voice, it was really rather pleasing to hear; and John's sounded even better, soft and lyrical and so wonderful that he wanted him to speak for the rest of the night.

Tomorrow would be hard, John wanted him to at least tell James that he was still alive, but he didn't want to think of that now.

He was safe and sound and his loneliness would be over soon.

* * *

At last, he walked into the London house that was now a Sanctuary and anything other than home, and he stood in the doorway, cold and aloof as James turned to see him, his eyes widening in surprise, shock, and then even, he barely believed it, joy.

The joy in Nikola's own heart stayed low and he didn't know how to express it anymore, so he pretended it didn't exist.

They had all changed, and it couldn't ever go back to how it was. It would never be easy again.

So he simply shook his head, and left the room, the house, the street, and kept walking until he couldn't walk anymore.

He had been alone so long that he prefered it now.

_Alone protects me._


End file.
